


Junior Suicide Squad

by strawberrymilkytea



Category: DcComics, Marvel, comicbook - Fandom, suicidesquad - Fandom
Genre: Comics, DC comics - Freeform, Original Character - Freeform, Other, Suicide Squad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 15:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19467205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrymilkytea/pseuds/strawberrymilkytea
Summary: Deathstroke’s youngest daughter just became leader of the Junior Suicide Squad. Incarcerated at age 14, it seems she’s destined to follow in her father’s footsteps. But she wants to be better. How can she possibly manage that when crime is all she’s ever known?





	1. Chapter 1

-  
•|| the facade of freedom ||•  
-  
Rylee’s heart pounded so quickly that she was certain it was bruising her ribs. She’d never run so quickly in her life, the oversized coat she’d swiped from the rack in the guard’s break room flying wildly around her legs. The grimy, wet pavement felt dreadful beneath her bare feet, but she hadn’t exactly planned on escaping prison tonight — the opportunity presented itself while she was on her way back from the medical ward for her asthma meds, and she’d made a break for it. Shockingly enough, she was able to make it past the entrance using the security pass left carelessly in the pocket of the coat she’d taken, and now she found herself out in the grim streets of Gotham, damp with rain and freezing in only a white shirt and sweat pants, and of course no shoes.  
Already helicopters and police blimps were gathering in the cloudy night sky, shining blinding search lights down onto the city. Loud sirens went off in every direction, and flashing blue and red lights seemed to come from all over. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!” she frantically muttered to herself, turning down an alleyway only to find a dead end. In moments, they found her. Cerulean-blue eyes widening in panic, she whirled around to see that she was surrounded. She couldn’t see past the many bright lights trained on her, but she could hear the distinct sound of several guns cocking, ready to fire.  
Swallowing hard, still short of breath, she slowly lifted her hands in surrender. Indistinct shouts and radio chatter were drowned out by the blood roaring past her ears; she was coming down from the adrenaline and her entire body was shaking like a leaf.  
An unnecessary amount of cops circled her, shouting orders and forcing her face down on the damp asphalt before cuffing her. She was fairly petite, and it shouldn’t have taken so many grown men just to restrain her hands, particularly when she wasn’t resisting. But that was GCPD for you.  
A few minutes later, she was dragged to the back seat of a squad car and taken back to the prison.  
“Well, little convict, you got farther than anyone else ever did. But I told you, no one escapes under my watch.” Waller sneered smugly as she closed the file in her hands and slammed it down onto her desk. The warden of Arkham Penitentiary and director of the Suicide Squad was a very large, dark-skinned woman with a face cut like a jagged cliff side and the demeanor of a mad hornet. She always wore black business suits, complete with pencil skirt and blazer, as well as her badge, which stayed pinned to her breast pocket.  
A real ray of sunshine, that one.  
Her steely eyes raked over Rylee, who was sitting silently across the desk from her. An abundance of honey-blonde and bubblegum-pink curls partially hid the girl’s in shadow as she looked down at her lap, where her hands were still cuffed together. The gleam of the metal seemed almost sinister. She wore prison fatigues, but not orange jumpsuits like the other inmates of Arkham.  
Her clothes were white, and on each sleeve was a symbol — the design of a sniper’s sight, over black threads stitching what appeared the be the screen of a tracking radar. The sigil of the Suicide Squad.  
“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Demanded Waller suddenly, her booming voice all but shaking the office around them.  
But Rylee didn’t flinch. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her head, a viscous expression on her face.  
Blue eyes shone defiantly at the warden, who would not tolerate any sort of attitude from her prisoners. Grinding her teeth, Amanda Waller threw the file at her, papers going everywhere, drifting to the floor and onto the girl’s lap. All she could read without being able to move the page to a better angle was her name.  
Rylan Victoria Wilson.  
Her burst of rage over, Waller stood and walked around to the chair Rylee occupied. She was smirking crookedly again. “Smile, little convict.” She said coarsely, with a stomach churning relish. “You just became leader of the Junior Suicide Squad.”  
Not missing a beat, Waller harshly tipped the chair over and laughed. “Escort the brat back to her cell. She’s got some packing to do.” With that, Waller cackled all the way out of her office and down the corridor.  
When the security guards entered to assist Rylee in standing, she waved them off and got to her feet herself, staring down at her mess of a file. Every crime she’d ever committed, scattered in sheets of paper around her feet. The pages could fill a fat novel, and they would only increase, the longer she stayed incarcerated here.  
“What’d she mean by “packing”?” Finally, she spoke, looking up at one of the guards, who exchanged glances with his partner before answering.  
“Junior Squad is being moved to its own compound due to the new Incarceration of Minors Act that anchor woman proposed a few weeks ago. West, I think it was?”  
“Iris..?” Rylee looked down, surprise evident on her face. She said nothing else as she was taken back to her holding cell. She was getting out of this hellhole, away from the Walrus.  
-  
The next morning, after being harshly scrubbed clean of the grit from the streets, Rylee was being led through the mess hall, which was packed with the adult inmates, who all seemed to be glowering down at her.  
One of them even approached her — she didn’t have to look to know who it was.  
“Pathetic.” scoffed the white-haired man, glaring at her with his one good eye. “You didn’t even last an hour.”  
Despite his obvious middle age, he was strongly built as a result of rigorous and intense daily training for the past 20-something years.  
“Thanks, dad.” Rylee spoke in a sarcastic tone. She was rewarded with a hard, loud slap to her face, which was so forceful that it turned her head completely to one side. Of course, the guards did nothing about it.  
“Don’t think for one second that being moved from this god forsaken place means you’re in anyway free.” Slade said coldly. “And don’t forget who you are, little girl.”  
“I can’t.” Rylee finally looked up at him, her face a mix of anger and heavy disdain, which was evident in her voice. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”  
With this, her escorts seemed to be bored of the encounter, because they ushered her on with rough hands. She didn’t look back at her father, but she could feel his gaze burning through her like a hot knife.  
Adjusting the faded backpack that contained her few possessions, she followed the guards outside and into a black Mercedes; an undercover vehicle. All of the other members of the Junior Squad had already been moved to the new location, in separate modes of transportation to prevent any incidents.  
A strange feeling overcame Rylee as she watched the wrought iron gates of the prison open and allow her ride to pass through. She wasn’t really free, but tonight, for the first time in two years, she wouldn’t be sleeping on a hard cot in a tiny, windowless cell. And that was enough.


	2. The Beginning

-  
•|| the beginning ||•  
-  
“Hey, look guys — it’s Convict Barbie, now with pink handcuff accessories!” A black haired girl with malicious green eyes smirked as Rylee entered the surprisingly spacious and well kept house that had been designated “home” for the JSS.  
“Vitawni,” Rylee said measuredly as Scarecrow’s daughter approached, standing a full head taller than the blonde. “Always a fucking delight.”  
Vitawni laughed humorlessly. “So, fierce leader, wanna let us in on what the hell is going on?” She motioned to the three other teenagers sitting on the white sectional in front of a large television that was switched off. “We’re all dying to know.”  
Placing her dirty, battered retro My Little Pony backpack on the floor by the island table in the kitchen, Rylee glanced around the open space, genuinely baffled by all of the privileges they’d been allowed. “I don’t know.” she admitted. “Apparently a law about incarcerated minors just passed and we all got some kind of work release.”  
“We even get cellphones,” the tallest and eldest of the group, a well built young man with ashy black hair interjected, holding up a red iPhone to punctuate his point. “It’s crazy.” He too approached Rylee and handed her a similar phone that was neon pink. Darren Mustang, also known as the Necromancer, was one of the more tame and calm members of the JSS, and his eyes always reminded Rylee of the surface of a still lake — undisturbed and steady.  
“You know all of this shit won’t come without a price.” Vitawni said bitterly, tossing her own lime-green phone onto the couch before taking a seat.  
Rylee winced — she was right.  
Not to mention it would be difficult at the least to live with Vitawni, who was the previous leader of their squad, and had for some reason been demoted in favor of Deathstroke’s daughter.  
“So, little miss disappear, they didn’t tell you anything either?”  
Rylee shook her head, still staring at the phone in her hand.  
Just then, the television screen came to life with an image of Waller wearing her usual scowl. “Alright, junior convicts, listen closely because I will not repeat myself.”  
All of them moved to the couch to get a clearer view.  
“Thanks to the law, I can’t keep you in the prison anymore. But this should suffice for “decent living conditions”. You will be closely monitored, and your inhibitor chips are still active, so trying something would be stupid.” Rylee shifted uncomfortably at this, almost feeling the foreign computer chip in her wrist, as if it had been installed only yesterday instead of two years ago. “You will operate independently of the Suicide Squad, and assignments will be issued and completed as usual. You will each attend the local public school, starting Monday morning. Your status as felons has been sealed from public record, so do not tell anyone about being inmates unless you’re looking for brutal punishment. My eyes will be on you at all times.”  
The screen darkened again, leaving the five teens in sort of confused silence. Rylee had been leaning her hip against the back of the couch, arms crossed as she’d listened to Waller’s instructions, but now she moved to the middle of the sitting room.  
Two other girls completed their team — one with dark-brown hair and hazel eyes, the other with dyed neon-pink hair and blue eyes. The pink-haired one was the youngest member of the Junior Suicide Squad, only having just turned 13 a few months ago. despite this, she was a genius with explosives. Jerrica Grace, a.k.a “Sugar”.  
The older one was Tina Sayers, codename Prism. She was from a planet in a distant star system, and could change her appearance at will, as well as control the light spectrum.  
In order from youngest to oldest, it was Jerrica (13), Rylee (16), Vitawni (16), Tina (17), and Darren (18).  
Rylee shifted uncomfortably, not sure how or where to begin — she’d never been a leader before. In fact it seemed she’d always been taking orders from someone. Her father, Ra’as Al Ghul, his daughter Talia, and then the Walrus. Being invisible was her “special ability”, so having all eyes on her gave her a strong urge to Fade Out, but she resisted it.  
“We’re not really free.” she began. “We’d be stupid to think that we are. But this definitely beats the juvenile ward at Arkham. And we do have the freedom to come and go as we please. Just do me a favor?” Here, she looked around at all of their faces. “I know we’re criminals, but for fuck’s sake, control yourselves. We will have plenty of opportunities to get it out of our systems when we’re actually on an assignment. But in the meantime, if anyone fucks this up for us, i swear to god I will kill you.”  
-


	3. Of Heroes & Thieves

-  
[ chapter 3 — of heroes & thieves ||•  
—  
-  
“That doesn’t belong to you.”  
A deep baritone voice caused Pink X to freeze, her hand hovering above an open display case she’d just broken into. A smooth, glowing blue stone was nestled among purple velvet behind the glass, a beacon in the otherwise darkened museum. The Heart of Atlantis — a precious jewel from the underwater kingdom, brought to the above world for a short time as part of an exhibit at Gotham’s Museum of Art & History. Someone was paying her very handsomely for the chance to own it.  
“Well, not yet anyway.” She lamented, smirking and slowly turning her head to look over her shoulder. Her hands instantly went to the hilts of the dual katanas on her back, drawing them free. Their blades gleamed dangerously in the light from the Heart.  
Her opponent was tall — he stood at least two heads over her — and very muscular. He had long midnight hair, pulled away from his sharp featured face, and bright violet eyes that appeared to glow like purple flames. Of course. Send an Atlantean to guard an Atlantean treasure.  
“Filthy thief.” He growled, his hand shooting out to grab her wrist. But she danced away, snatching the Heart with the tip of her blade and sending it into the air. Tossing one of the swords up, she caught the gem and shoved it into the black satchel strapped to her thigh, and caught her katana as it came back down.  
“That’s a bit harsh.” She mock pouted. “I’m just trying to make a living here.”  
He wasn’t amused — he was suddenly towering over her, his fist encased in blue lightning as it drove towards her.  
“Not the face!” She exclaimed, ducking just in time to avoid being hit. Then she nimbly backflipped away to put some distance between them. “Things are moving too fast — I need some space.”  
Was that a chuckle he was trying to suppress? Rylee was surprised — she’d always considered herself funny but her jokes were mainly for herself since none of the heroes who’d fought her had ever laughed before.  
She was so taken aback by it that she nearly didn’t dodge the blast of electricity he sent at her. When she regained herself, she was tackled to the ground, one of her katanas flying from her hand as he pinned her against the marble floor.  
“If you wanted to be on top of me that badly, all you had to do was ask.” Smirking wryly, Rylee drove her knees up into his chest, gripping his wrists so that she could propel him up and over her head.  
His eyes widened; he obviously wasn’t expecting her to be that strong. She was scrawny, but she could bench five times her body weight.  
Recovering quickly, he made sure not to let her retrieve her second sword. That wasn’t a problem — she didn’t need both to fight. One would do just fine. She used the steel to deflect his electricity, relying on the rubber hilt to protect her from being fried to death.  
“So you’re Atlantean and you have electric powers? Can I call you the Eel?”  
“It’s Tempest.” He replied shortly, grabbing the sword by its blade and wrenching it from her. It hit the ground with a metallic clang, but Rylee was quick to draw several pink x blades and toss them. Two grazed his shoulder but he didn’t even flinch as blood surfaced from the cuts.  
“I’m Pink X — you know, in case it wasn’t obvious.” She gestured to the large pink “X” going across her mask.  
“I know who you are.” Tempest brought a hard uppercut into her stomach, literally knocking the wind out of her. “You’re notorious.”  
“I’m flattered, really.” Wheezing, Rylee stumbled and pressed her hand to her abdomen. “But autographs are five bucks a pop.”  
It took way too long for her to catch her breath again — damn terminal illness. Gritting her teeth, she tried not to make it obvious that she could barely breathe, but he still noticed and seemed almost concerned.  
While he was distracted, she drove a palm strike directly into his face, causing his nose to gush fluids. Crying out, he stumbled back a few feet, but instead of instinctively applying pressure to his injury, his hand wrapped around the black fabric of her mask, yanking it off.  
Now Rylee cried out as a sharp pull went through her skull; he’d grabbed a handful of her hair along with the mask.  
Panic jolted through her body — her face was exposed. She prepared for an inevitable strike, but it never came.  
Tempest was staring down at her in awe, his eyes wide. She took this opportunity to sweep his legs out from beneath him, dropping him on his rear, and snatched her mask back before running past him and exiting the building.  
He could hear the roar of a motorcycle engine coming to life outside, but made no attempt to further pursue her. Still on the ground, he couldn’t purge the image of those eyes from his mind. Crystalline and bright, like the purest sea. “That was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen..”  
—  
“You did great work today, girls. I’ll see you next Friday.” Rylee dismissed her junior ballet class, starting to sift through some new applications that she’d spread out on a table at the back of the studio. Bright midday sunlight streamed through the windows, reflecting off of the wall length mirrors and bare wooden floor, giving the space a warm glow.  
She wore her blonde and pink hair in a messy bun at the back of her head, and her black leotard and skirt were disheveled from three hours spent teaching new techniques.  
Taking a swig of cool water from her thermos, she took her afternoon medication and pulled on a black and pink long-sleeved crop top to protect her from the chill that had a habit of lingering in the studio this time of year.  
“So this is Pink X’s day job?”  
Rylee went rigid as she caught sight of a familiar handsome face in the mirror before her. Not missing a beat, she wrenched a metallic-pink blade from her bag, and backed him against the wall, pressing it to his throat.  
He smirked, clearly unalarmed. “You won’t kill me.”  
“What makes you so sure?”  
“Because how would you explain a murder at your ballet studio? Besides, I’m not going to turn you in.”  
That gave her pause. She lowered the blade, still glaring at him.  
“So you just came here to mess with me? Is that it?” She demanded as he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to leave.  
“Pretty much.” He grinned over his shoulder at her. “Plus I had to see those eyes again.”  
Rylee was rendered speechless as she watched him leave, lowering her blade to her side.  
“What the hell just happened?”  
-


End file.
